


what you see in my eyes ( please feed me lies)

by Still_sleepless



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Betrayal, Cheating, M/M, it's emo hours so strap in for the ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2020-03-31 00:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19038754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_sleepless/pseuds/Still_sleepless
Summary: "Can you feel the weight of it? The whole world at your fingertips".; and then against all odds, they fell out of love. the whole world lost its lustre and the sun shone a little dimmer while the moon exhaled in trepidation. the last real love had dissipated in the midst of chaos and anger.a tale of dismay and what a broken heart looks like.





	1. in my head

Laying in the sand under a sky devoid of stars San breathed out pain in small movements. And then he cried.

Through the tears, he could see someone settling down on to the beach beside him and he rapidly blinked in alarm to clear his vision.

"Oh. It's you".

San emitted a dull sigh and began fidgeting with his fingers, despite his best efforts he could still feel a piercing glare threatening to grab his attention.

The air seemed to reach a standstill, the darkened waves roiled in silent war as if even the sea was listening with bated breath for some sort of meaning.

Wooyoung looked past San and instead surveyed the dim horizon. A segment crossing borders and yet never moving. A cruel joke with no punchline. It seemed bitterly familiar.

"You seem disappointed", Wooyoung almost seemed to spit out these words which were consumed by a vacuum of reluctance. Grains of sand were digging into his palms, leaving wet imprints that gleamed a sodden purple against his pale skin. The pain was almost desirable in comparison to the frigid tension emanating within the air.

San felt the cold breeze cut into him like shards of glass and resolutely refused to shiver. Instead, he continued to stare out at the darkened water without really seeing anything at all.

Slowly, he shifted and looked at Wooyoung, his eyes rimmed red and bloodshot. This was something only emphasised by his usual caramel complexion, though now it was a sickly shade of watered down coffee.

Quirking up one corner of his lips, San asked: "is it that obvious?"

"What? That you hate my guts? Oh, it's incredibly obvious" Wooyoung quipped with a quiet chuckle. "It's getting cold." His voice wavered dangerously, on the precipice of something dark and unspoken. "Come home", he added in a broken breath, as if his lungs hurt to speak the words. His expression had softened into something sad and desperate and San abruptly noticed just how tired Wooyoung looked. _How long have those bags been there?_

San inhaled sharply. Sharp just like everything else about him, sharp just like this situation. A dagger seemed to be lodged between his lower ribs impeding all sense of joy. But when his hands tentatively reached down they came away dry. _There should be blood,_ he thought. _Blood to justify this pain._

"What home are you talking about?" San met Wooyoung's eyes with surprising ease. For a moment that was all there was. San's unwavering expression as he faced the man whom he had given everything to. Then Wooyoung was flinching away and San's heart dropped just a little further, now only being held up by a few tenuous strings.

"San, I-" he began pitifully.

"You what?" San's voice escaped into the air and fell flat upon Wooyoung's shoulders. "You want to take me to the house we bought together? But you can't, can you? Not when you've moved in your whore." his words seemed to move out his mouth with no control, Wooyoung could only recoil in response. Out of disgust or despair, San could not fathom.

San turned back towards the sea and almost seemed to shrink further into himself. His hands clasping his knees tightly enough to cause his knuckles to protrude far more than what was healthy.

San's voice fell out in a rushed whisper, "I'm okay. You can go". Silently, he prayed for a way out of this. For a way to wake up and be done with this hell-scape.

"You're clearly not okay. Just let me drive you-"

San stood up so quickly his head started to spin and suddenly he wondered if he would faint before he could escape. What a joke he would be if that happened. Another joke Wooyoung could tell his friends to illustrate his weakness. The sky curved inwards and San swayed beneath endless shades of blue upon an endless expanse of sand at the ends of the world. Or at least, that's what it felt like before San snapped back to what was actually happening. The world was still spinning. It was only San's world that had fallen apart. He wasn't at the ends of the earth. He was on the beach where Wooyoung had first told he loved him. Now, the two things seemed to be one and the same. With this in mind, he managed to choke out some semblance of words that made sense.

"You don't have to do anything for me anymore. We're already divorced. You don't need to pretend to love me anymore".

And then was he was gliding in long strides across the beach towards anywhere that didn't have a man who had a twinkling smile and who had promised San the world. Anywhere that didn't have Wooyoung. Even before he blinked San knew there were fresh tears streaming down his face.

He let them fall.

How could he tell Wooyoung that the only home he had ever known was him? That in San's chest was a space marked for him and for him alone. The very thought of speaking these words felt like giving up. Felt like acceptance of the inevitable. Because Wooyoung wouldn't keep coming after him to ensure he was okay. He had someone else now to protect. And soon enough Wooyoung will stop caring just like he had stopped loving him.

Wooyoung had promised him forever. San hadn't realised that forever would only mean 6 years.

And now he was stuck in love with someone who had already moved on.


	2. i'd blame you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this isn't reality, please cut me from my dreams.
> 
> If this is truly life then put me out of my misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't good but I have a bunch of fic ideas that are just bursting out haha I also have my pysch exam tomorrow oh no.

San had found out that Wooyoung was cheating on him during the peak of spring; cherry blossoms blooming brightly. The world around him birthed new miracles while his own world died. He stayed quiet and did nothing, hoping that silence would bring Wooyoung back to him.

It didn't.

By the time winter had arrived among wilting leaves, Wooyoung came home later and later. Until one day he didn't come home at all. San stayed up counting the seconds, measuring up the betrayal like it was a tangible substance he could fix and not just a deep ache that had settled between his joints.

Wooyoung returned home at the crack of dawn looking, to his credit, suitably ashamed. This did nothing to quell San's rising panic. Instead, it just aggravated him, pouring boiling water on an open wound.

"I'm leaving you", he had said over a plate of omelettes, stopping to take a sip of coffee, "I've met someone else", he chewed out as San dropped his plate. Simply knowing beforehand does nothing to temper the surprise, the raw vitriol in your blood.

It pained San and so he pretended that he had not suspected a thing. "How long?", he had choked out even though there was something more desperate to ask.

_Who?_

"Half a year", Wooyoung finally stopped staring at his food. He made eye contact with San and, bizarrely, had unshed tears in his sunken eyes. San couldn't comprehend that Wooyoung would be crying. _He_ hadn't been betrayed.

Was it his fault? Did he drive him away?

And since when has he looked that ill? How had he gotten so skinny? Where was San while his husband was seemingly disappearing from this world? Where was he when his husband had found comfort in the arms of another? He wants to scream because he shouldn't still be caring, not right now. San doesn't scream. He closes his eyes, on the floor, gripping a shard of glass so tightly it breaks the skin.

"Don't _fucking_ cry", he manages to muster in a voice that echoes loudly in the too quiet kitchen. "You don't have the right to be _fucking_ crying right now", standing up he drips blood like a faucet; "just tell me why?"

_Who?_

"I don't love you anymore. I haven't loved you for the longest time."

It's then that San realises he's not awake. He's been living through a nightmare world where nothing is real. Or maybe, he's died and been sent to hell. Because this is hell and Wooyoung is not the person who counted his heartbeat under the stars a thousand moons ago. He can only be the devil playing a cruel trick.

In a rush, San is moving forward and reaching for his mask, he must be wearing one, and as he pulls at this demon's skin he registers a distant noise raising in pitch.

It's screeching. It's _his_ screeching.

This only angers him more. He was meant to be calm. He was meant to stop Wooyoung from leaving.

 _Wooyoung_ , because this _is_ real and San is screaming words that don't make sense and the devil doesn't exist because then there would have to be a god to _stop this._

"Stop this", Wooyoung whispers as San collapses in his arms, his heart seizing and shrinking and seemingly dissolving.

He sobs because it's the only thing he can do anymore. Wooyoung does nothing except stroke the back of his head. They both pretend that they're still in love. That they're still enough for each other.

His cries slowly fizzle out and San tilts back to look at the only man he has ever loved. He's close enough to count each individual fleck of gold that burns molten in Wooyoung's eyes. Eyes that had once looked only at him but now look elsewhere.

There are scratches on Wooyoung's face and a smear of blood from San's hand already drying and peeling. He reaches out and cups Wooyoung's cheek with painstaking restraint.

The moment breaks.

"Let's get divorced", San forces out still sitting in his lap. Wooyoung only nods. If San still had a heart then it would be breaking once again. It shouldn't be this _easy_.

_It shouldn't be happening at all._

Wooyoung already had the papers (so did San, even if he doesn't say it), and they sign what little they can without an attorney present.

While Wooyoung is out meeting their (joint) lawyer, San packs a bag.

He's gone before night falls, the bloody glass waiting for Wooyoung on the floor.


	3. here to remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't be mistaken. this isn't misery.
> 
> it's pity.
> 
> for (me and) you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATEEZ got their 1st Win!!! Well done everyone!!!

The movies are lying to you. Divorces are much easier to file than what you'd expect. The movies lied to San too. There was no long trial bargaining over household assets that entertained the neighbours. There was simply a series of meetings in which San relinquished pretty much every object they shared. He couldn't stomach the memories that accompanied them. That included the house, though Wooyoung was weirdly adamant that San stayed for reasons he couldn't truly decipher.

"At least until you've found another place," he pleaded over numerous phone calls that quickly drained San of all his strength.

Sam rejected all attempts to persuade him and moved in with Hongjoong, an old friend who was endlessly worried about his state of mind.

Their marriage came to an end in a grey office under a brittle sky, signed off by a notary who didn't know of how Wooyoung had saved San from himself. How San had worked part-time jobs to support Wooyoung through his degree - putting aside his own passion for years. Didn't know anything of their love.

But then, San supposed, neither did he.

* * *

 

They were moving. Both San and Hongjoong had decided that they wanted to be closer to the bustle of the city. (And further away from a quaint home built on too many lies, though neither of them say it).

"Do you thin-", Hongjoong gasps out as he drops yet another box full of recording equipment, "do you think we should hold a flat-warming party?"

San glances up from the shelf he was trying and failing to construct and takes in the sweat building on Hongjoong's brow. The boy spent too much time working in his office, San would have to pester him to join a gym.

"A party?", he snorts at the very idea of debuting his newly divorced status in front of all their friends. Not that they didn't know already, gossip spread through the grapevine the moment San moved out.

"It's been 3 months San, you've got to stop being such a hermit", Hongjoong leans against the kitchen doorframe. His eyes are downcast and pinning San with soft affection. If San didn't already know him then he would think that he was being pretentious. But no, Hongjoong didn't have a single pretentious bone in his body.

Sitting on the floor San hugs a wooden board close and glares up at Hongjoong, "I can't believe I'm getting called a hermit by you of all people", his voice drips with drawling indignation, "need I remind you we moved to be closer to your workplace?"

Hongjoong continues on as if San hadn't spoken. Typical.

"It doesn't have to be a big thing", he claims while waving his hands around erratically, "only the essential people. Jongho, of course. Seonghwa, Yeosang, Min-", Hongjoong cuts himself off and flashes an awkward grin. "Sorry, not Mingi. I forgot".

Rolling his eyes, San turns back to the shelf and begins driving a screw into the board a little too aggressively. "You don't have to apologise, Hyung. It's not a big deal."

They both know that it is a big deal. San had been friends with Mingi since middle school. He suffered a big loss, losing both Wooyoung and Mingi almost simultaneously.

San has lied too. The movies _are_ more accurate than they seem. But Wooyoung and San didn't face a fierce custody battle over meaningless items, instead it was an argument over their friends. Specifically, over one friend. Mingi.

* * *

 

"What have you been telling Mingi?" San asked one day, sitting across from a distracted Wooyoung in a cafe.

"Huh?", he responded, eyes scanning a settlement draft that their lawyers had drawn up for the 3rd time. His hands fidgeted with the sheaf of papers and San was tempted to smooth the frown away from his face. Instead he stole the pile of paperwork away and forced Wooyoung to look at him.

 _"Mingi"_ , he practically hissed out, careful to not raise his voice. "He hasn't been answering my calls and I know it has something to with you."

Wooyoung feigns ignorance, grabbing the papers back. "I don't know what you're talking about. Stop with the allegations." He grits his teeth and stares at San for several severe beats.

"Oh cut the crap. You're stupid but you're not _this_ fucking stupid", his voice raises too many octaves and they receive surprised glances from other patrons. San doesn't care. "The last thing he said to me was that he couldn't in " _good conscious_  continue this" anymore. What the fuck does that even mean?" He's practically yelling, voice teetering on the margins between rage and despair. Something he had been doing too much recently.

"So, he's picking sides. You can't control him." Wooyoung's steady tone of voice is getting on his nerves. It's the voice he uses in business meetings, and had never once been used before on San. The hopelessness of this dawns on him and he almost chokes.

"Mingi", he stresses slowly, his words now dangerously level, "only met you through me. I've known him since I was a child. Does it make sense that he would support you when _I've_ been cheated on?"

Something shifts then. Wooyoung closes his eyes and mutters something only he can hear. San continues, fuelled by anger and a deep rooted fear which he can't shake. "Are you fucking him?" He says, regret lodged in his throat as soon as he speaks.

Wooyoung opens his eyes at this development and balances his jaw precariously in the palm of one hand before answering, "excuse me?"

"Are you cheating on me with Mingi?"

Wooyoung seems to contemplate this, taking all the time in the world to conceive of enough words to adequately respond. "No, I don't suppose I am", his eyes are alight and the denial smells of powder and heat. A teasing grin melts upon Wooyoung's face and San thinks the amusement is like poison. Because Wooyoung doesn't smile at him like that anymore and when he finally does it's as they're discussing the subject of him cheating.

"Do you find this funny?"

"How can you tell?" And he finally laughs, it escapes in bubbles before building up. When Wooyoung finally stops, there are tears in his eyes. San wants to rip him apart. Wants to stop him from rubbing it in. When had he grown this violent? Not long ago San would have been alarmed at Wooyoung getting a nosebleed and now he wants to knock his head into the table. But then when had Wooyoung grown this cruel? This thought plagues him long after the divorce, it stays with him even as he's building a shelf for the books that Wooyoung had gifted him. It guides him even as he agrees to throwing a housewarming party, the betrayal and confusion plaguing his thoughts even as he sleeps.

The answer comes then in the middle of the night but it's always gone by the time he wakes up. Too heavy and hard for San to handle and so he lets it go.

He'll never let it go.

 

 


	4. in too deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we're swimming
> 
> but you're drowning 
> 
> and I'm leaving

It visits him in his dreams, a mutated amalgamation of all San had once held dear. It comes in the form of a bird, twisted and distorted. Feathers rotting black and seeping oil. San knows that the bird is him. The bird is what he has become.

 

There are seven stages of grief. San wonders how he can be experiencing all of them at one time when he hasn't lost anything (other than himself, dying a little bit more everyday since Wooyoung cast him aside).

 

He's moving from denial to acceptance on a daily basis. At this point, it's never ending. 

* * *

Hongjoong is driving him somewhere. He didn't say much. Just marched into San's room and then marched right back out, tugging him along by the wrist. The day smells of honeysuckle and permeates a sticky saccharine. It's cloying and sticks to San like perfume. He takes to closing his eyes and breathing as lightly as he can out of his mouth.

 

He feels the car come to a stop and opens one eye secretively to spy them at a red traffic light. There's a bird somewhere chirping incessantly and it sounds strangely like Hongjoong when he's singing in the shower. The thought brings a smile to his face, bright and gleaming, San turns to Hongjoong to reveal this obviously true resemblance.

 

He stops short when he realises Hongjoong is already staring at him, fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel in time with the bird. The reflection of the midday sun off the metal casing moves slightly and Hongjoong is washed in tints of the rainbow; blue are his eyes and green are his cheeks. His lips shine redder than ever and for a moment they're all San can see as the bird sings in a language that sounds lost (in another life he would have known it).

 

"I love you, you know that right?"

 

San nods once, the colours leaking like bleach. He can see Hongjoong's eyes again. They're sincere and dripping caramel flakes every time he blinks. He raises his arm limply and points past Hongjoong.

 

"The light's green", he grins lopsidedly before lowering his arm and flicking Hongjoong's temple, "better get moving."

 

Hongjoong sighs before changing gears and moving forward. The song bird fades into the distance as they pick up speed along with whatever words it had to say. "I say this because I'm not taking you to lunch."

 

"You're taking me to lunch?" San asks as he stares at the passing clouds, one vaguely resembles a dolphin with a top hat.

 

Glancing at San in exasperation, Hongjoong darts out a hand to deliver a sharp slap to San's arm, eliciting a pained hiss. "Pay attention. I'm not taking you to lunch. I'm taking you to a job interview."

 

He freezes, the pain in his arm suddenly no longer important. An interview. "Please tell me you're joking."

 

Hongjoong doesn't even look at him, his silhouette looking distinctly more malevolent than it had ten seconds prior. "Fine. I'm joking."

 

San feels relief fill his veins like a shot of novacaine, anxiety already being brushed off.

 

"It's not an interview. It's your first day on the job". 

 

And now the anxiety is back in full force and the emotional whiplash leaves San feeling confused. "What?"

 

"I know the owner of this cafe. They haven't been open too long and are looking for new recruits." Hongjoong chances a glance at San. His eyes are so wide they're almost bulging and he has to suppress a chuckle as San wouldn't hesitate to hit him. "You're wasting away at home and I refuse to have you dipping into your savings to pay the rent. You need a job."

 

Hongjoong sobers up as he remembers San's tears, a constant fixture of their lives the past three months. He grips the steering wheel too tightly, anger inadvertently entering his voice. "You deserve more than this but it's the best I can do for now. You gave up your aspirations for Wooyoung and I hated it. You went to culinary school _for fucks sake."_ Hongjoong knows he should stop, his emotions as taut as a string pulled tightly. He can't. They spill over out of frustration. "All that talent-", he stops abruptly, words gathered on his tongue. San is poking his cheek with a smile glazed over by cherries.

 

"Okay. I'll do it." He swipes his hand over Hongjoong's forehead, pushing his hair backwards and out of his eyes. Hongjoong leans into his touch and feels something break away in his chest. It's warm.

 

"You will?"

 

"I will." And then he's turning away, head against the window and eyes closing. They both smile, small and unbeknownst to the other. A breeze from outside pulls in a fragrance that rings in Hongjoong's skull, behind his eyes. 

 

He makes a left turn.

 

As Hongjoong parks the car he holds his breath. He doesn't know how San will take this, he'd never been good with change. And yet he got divorced. (A decision he found out in the middle of the night, San crying at his doorstep).

 

"This is cute", comes his voice, bright like a song Hongjoong knows all the words to. 

 

He's staring at the cafe front, it's painted in neutral shades of creams and greys. 

 

"Wait until you see the inside", he gets out of the car with San close behind and quickly enters just in case he decides to run away. A loud burst of music greets them. There's a splash of colour amongst the monochrome in the form of art deco pieces, the tables are like puzzle pieces, jagged and placed in organised chaos. 

 

San whistles, impressed, his face a picture of delight. 

 

"Hongjoong! You've made it!" A man serving coffee waves them over, pulling a dishcloth from around his neck to wipe at a spill. 

 

"Gunhee, it's good to see you man." He gives Gunhee a hug before pulling back and gesturing at San. "San, this is Gunhee. He's the owner who has so graciously offered you a job."

 

"Thank you so much for doing this", feeling suddenly uncertain, San bows deeply. Then he hears a loud smacking sound and he straightens. Hongjoong is gripping his stomach and rolling his eyes. 

 

"Ignore him. Really you're doing me a favour here. We're majorly understaffed", Gunhee shakes his hand with fervour, San tilts his head slightly to look up at him. " I assume Hongjoong has told you what you'll be doing?"

 

"Not exactly." Both Hongjoong and San speak at the same time, Gunhee pauses and glances between them. 

 

"Okay, then I'll give you a quick run down. Hongjoong tells me you went to culinary school?" San nods. "Well you'll spend a lot of time making desserts for us to sell during lunch rush hour. You'll also probably need to serve food occasionally along with our other employee." Gunhee speaks fast, like he's been indulging in his own espresso supply.

 

"He's actually going to be the one mentoring you for the first few weeks." Gunhee jerks his head up and grins widely as someone calls across the room. "Sorry, guys, it seems I'm needed elsewhere. San, help yourself to food if you're hungry".

 

Hongjoong perks up and reaches a hand towards a croissant. "Not you, I said San." He drops his hands looking dejected and Gunhee cackles in amusement. He picks up the croissant and gives it to Hongjoong, "here you go, baby." 

 

Looking back at San, he points at a table, "you can wait here until your mentor arrives", he takes a step away but stops and looks back. "I look forward to working with you", and then he's drifting away towards a customer. San tastes something other than the weariness he's been carrying since that day in spring. He thinks it might be hope but it's too unfamiliar for him to grasp and it melts before he can hold on. He sits and Hongjoong mirrors him, crumbs littering the table from the croissant.

 

 _This is it. This is my chance_. There's a light at the end of the tunnel but San is moving backwards, there are no easy ways out. He presses forwards, wiping at Hongjoong's face with a tissue.

 

There are seven stages of grief. San has been living through them everyday. He wonders if he'll ever reach the end of them (there's another stage, it will never be over until he reaches it).

 

He relaxes in his seat, arms dangling at his side. _If I could rewind time, would I do it?_

 

There's a shock of blue in his peripheral vision, the bass from the speakers thuds through his skin. Hongjoong is saying something he can't hear but he nods along, regardless.

 

 _No, I wouldn't_. 


	5. don't take this lightly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i called your name. but it was too late.
> 
> you had already changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trash trash trash. hope you enjoy :)

Suffocation is a slow death, tiresome in how long it takes. San thinks of what has brought him to this moment, divorced at 24 and clinging to Hongjoong like he's drowning, like he's been stranded in a vast desert, sand filling his lungs.

Each grain is a payment for thinking happiness is as easy as saying 'I do.' 

But today, that's not it. Today San is a canvas wiped clean, waiting to be filled.

 

When he sees Yunho, his heart stutters. A tiny blip in the pattern of his heartbeat that he hasn't felt for the longest time. Breath catching, his eyes drag along the shock of electric blue brighter than even the brightest of skies.

 

"Hi. I'm Yunho, I'll be mentoring you for the next week", his smile is blinding, eyes scrunching up in sincerity and San blinks, once, twice.

 

Hongjoong glances at the hand reaching out to him, eyes unimpressed and harder than cobalt. "I'm not working here", he wrinkles his nose, head nodding towards San. Yunho's smile dims slightly, before he shifts and thrusts his hand in front of San's face, eyes wide.

 

"Hi Yunho. Thanks for agreeing to help me out", he hesitantly grips Yunho's hand, soft and smelling loosely of baby powder.

 

"It's no problem, really", he's pulling away too quickly, warmth disappearing as quick as it arrived. "I thought we could get started right away", he's briskly walking, pulling out two aprons from behind the counter and throwing it to San who really isn't physically inclined. Before it hits his face, Hongjoong's hand darts out and grabs the apron out of the air. San smiles sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment but Hongjoong looks far from amused, mouth downturned in a scowl.

 

"I think it's time for me to go, I have to get to work", quickly getting up, Hongjoong is grabbing his bag, drink discarded on the table.

 

"Really? Already?" San extends his arm to catch Hongjoong's wrist, feeling overwhelmed, but he dances just out of reach, sleeves trailing along San's fingertips like a taunt.

 

"I'll pick you up when you need me", he flies past, stopping for only a brief moment to throw an inscrutable look at Yunho, jaw set in a picture of something fierce.

 

Then he's gone, door chiming shrill as he leaves.

 

"Stay close", Yunho says abruptly, the words ballooning as San drags his gaze from Hongjoong's retreating form. The music in the background cuts out for a moment. Now there's only the quiet chatter of the patrons filling in the empty space of silence. The request doesn't register, close isn't a concept familiar to him anymore. 

 

Close isn't close enough when nobody wants you.

 

"Stay close", he repeats, sounding like a broken record that's lacking coherency. "I move fast", Yunho clarifies, breaking out into a grin that brightens his eyes. It's too fleeting to mean anything and there's a moment where San sinks into the thought of sweltering summer nights and half moons hanging low in the sky.

 

He wakes up from playing pretend when another song bursts into life, Gunhee thumping his fist against the jukebox in his periphery.

 

San offers a tight look while fiddling with the straps of his apron. "Okay."

 

Then Yunho instructs him methodically on the ins and outs of the cafe, lively and efficient. His voice is constant, stopping only for the occasional breath and he taps at the cash register with hummingbird speed. San can hardly keep up but finds himself mimicking his movements in a bid to appear competent. This job offer may have been some kind of surprise attack but Hongjoong is trying for him.

 

So, he's going to try too.

 

San sticks close, following him through a caramel painted door into the kitchen but bumps hard into Yunho's back when he halts and then twists around swiftly. Rubbing at his nose in irritation San throws a look at Yunho. "Sorry, am I going too fast?" He looks suddenly apologetic, erratic movements stilling and the stoicism is off-putting. San might have only met him but it seems awkward, unnatural. As if the only time Yunho is ever truly still is when he's asleep. "Gunhee says I talk a hundred miles a minute." He's worrying at his bottom lip, looking younger than what his impressive height would suggest. It's endearing and San feels bad on his behalf.

 

"No, it's okay", San manoeuvres around him breezily, taking in the open expanse of the kitchen that looks more homely than his own. He picks up a thin sheet of laminated papers stapled together messily. Printed on the front in bold holographic letters is 'Recipe Book'.

 

"That's for you. It has a variety of recipes scheduled for each day", a carefree sort of pride sticks to him, "I made it for you to use as a guideline." Then he throws his arms out wide clumsily. "The kitchen is yours!" It's too loud and unnecessarily brash but San returns the enthusiasm automatically. It's infectious and gives him a toothache like a sugar rush from too many fizzy drinks.

 

Coughing surreptitiously, Yunho tones down and goes through where all the ingredients are. Listing off the days when stock is refilled and tips on how to get product out fast on busy days.

 

"We can start it off together", and then Yunho points out an easy recipe and gathers the ingredients. San has made it dozens of times, just a variation on trifle so he places his hands on either side of Yunho's shoulders and shoves him gently to the side.

 

"I can do it", he's already measuring out the sugar, eyes busier than his hands, before remembering his manners. His eyes shoot upwards at Yunho's uneven grin. "Thank you but you have enough on your plate." Yunho merely nods, staying to watch for a few seconds before turning and quietly slipping out into the bustle of coffee beans and poor tipping.

 

* * *

 

At closing time, San emerges from the back in plume of cinnamon and tired satisfaction. His arms are laden with delicate confectionery baskets woven out of spun sugar which he places into cooled glass casing ready to be bought for tomorrow. 

 

The lighting has been switched for a soft golden glow that paints a crown upon their heads and San sighs, resting his elbows against the counter and watches the remaining customers slowly filter out into the darkness of the night, cold temporarily causing him to shiver every time the door swings shut. 

 

"You did well today", a voice from behind causes him to jump and Gunhee takes a seat beside him, ignoring his flighty nature. He knocks his hand against the display case appreciatively. Then he points at Yunho who's laughing with a customer that had been struggling to carry multiple takeout boxes. He grabbed them both with ease and goes out the door with her. "Yunho tells me that you're a genius with your hands." San blanches and wonders if Gunhee is aware of the double entendre but he simply continues, "I want you to keep up that energy, get a good rest today". Then he's bounding over to the register as he spots a customer starting to get up. 

 

_It seems that Yunho isn't the only who seems to have taken a healthy dose of the sugar supply._

 

San suppresses a snort at his own joke and takes Gunhee's words as permission to leave. Waving at his boss, San steps out into the cool air of the night. For the most part he's bathed in darkness but neon lights carve his face out in sharp relief of blue and green. 

 

Under this dim light he decides to forgo calling Hongjoong and instead to take the long walk home. Across the street to his immediate right San spies Yunho say goodbye to their customer as she enters her car. Yunho watches as she drives away before he shifts in the direction of the cafe. San draws his jacket tighter around himself.

 

He turns left.

 

The long walk home is even longer than usual. 


	6. forgotten lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a shame we turned out this way

The pale, placid halls of the hospital are enough to make anyone go insane, overly sanitised and trying to hide the death that lurks around every corner. San doesn't like hospitals. Yet, here he is, in an uncomfortable plastic bedside chair, grimacing and eyes drying uncomfortably as he struggles to stay awake.

Wooyoung is asleep in the bed. An IV leading up into his arm and dripping nutrients that he's neglected to ingest. The overwhelming silence punctuated by only a regular beep from the heart monitor drills it's way into San's head. 

He wonders where things went wrong and comes up with _nothing_. Nothing was wrong but now _everything_ is wrong. He sinks his head into the sterile sheets of the bed and shuts his eyes, one hand tightening around Wooyoung's wrist. 

 

 

***

 

 

When he wakes it's to the intrusive whispers of nursing staff just as they're wheeling out a trolley laden with vials that San will never be able to identify. He groans, head throbbing and neck stiff from the uncomfortable sleeping position. It isn't all too bad until there's a slight cough from his right. Slowly, with all the reluctance of a man scorned, he turns his head and meets eyes with Wooyoung. San groans once more. This one sounding, impossibly, more pained than the first.

"You're finally awake, _fucker_." 

Wooyoung frowns, every movement laced with pain. When he turns his face just slightly, San can see the redness of a crease on his cheek from sleeping for too long in one position. Wooyoung just stares as if San is a puzzle he hasn't figured out. Like he's a person that he hasn't met yet.

Wooyoung looks disappointed. San feels a sick thrill run through him. Suddenly, he realises that he _wants_ Wooyoung to be disappointed in him. Not only that but suddenly, he wants Wooyoung to be _disgusted_ by him. San pinches the skin on his left arm as he simultaneously wonders how many times he can toe the line. How far can he push the boundaries now that he's no longer tethered by the weight of marriage, a form of bondage which smothered him gradually over time without San realising. 

Now he no longer needs Wooyoung to love him. 

San doesn't think about _want_. He left want behind when he was packing his suitcase all those months ago.

Wanting and needing are two entirely different concepts, both pulling San in opposite directions and it's only a matter of time before he splits in two.

 _Take me home_ , he whispers to no one but himself. The words a remnant from years ago. An echo of what San would once ask Wooyoung, back when they were dating and their love was so fragile it could burst with too loud of a shout. 

In the end it took less than a shout for it to all crumbling down.

Wooyoung just stares, piercing San's convictions and dragging his heart back into the hellish feelings of something that can't be described. San doesn't know want to-

_Caring. The feelings of caring that I shouldn't have._

"Why are you here?" Wooyoung questions plaintively, voice raspy and cutting off halfway through.   
Wooyoung sounds tired, like San's very presence is draining. _Why do you always come running back to me?_ Is what his eyes seem to say, flitting back and forth, avoiding what's in front of him. 

"When will I _stop_ being your emergency contact?" It's almost satisfying to watch realisation dawn. For Wooyoung to know that San only came out of obligation and not some twisted remains of what was. Slowly, carefully, Wooyoung sits up and pats San's arm. It's quick, almost non-existent and yet the softest Wooyoung has treated him in months. 

"I'll change it. Sorry, you had to come here." These words pull the rug under from San, like a record that starts playing an unexpected song, he's bewildered. The powdery scent of the bed sheets give him a headache that burrows into his nasal cavity. He coughs. Wooyoung sounds defeated and all of a sudden San regrets it. He regrets coming here, he regrets finding out that Wooyoung had cheated. He regrets ever meeting Wooyoung in the first place.

The last realisation is what hurts the most, because San doesn't mean it.

It's quiet. 

They wait but for _what_ neither of them knows. Wooyoung's hair was once a strange watered-down shade of lavender but now it's cut short and the colour of coal. 

 _It suits him_ , San thinks but doesn't say, _like smoke_.

He realises that he's distracting himself with useless thoughts in order to prolong his stay. For Wooyoung to explain why he's in hospital. He has too much pride to ask and Wooyoung is already closing off again, eyes fluttering shut. 

"I'll get going now." San doesn't receive a response and hurries out of the room. He leaves behind a man plated with sterling and stuffed with rosemary.

 

 

***

 

  
San stumbles outside and stares at the world that doesn't know of his pain. The daylight has disappeared, gone in swaths of amber and silken sorrows that leave teardrops painted against San's cheeks. It burns a mark of malice straight through his chest - carving out the most solid fragments of himself- and he's too far gone to care anymore.


End file.
